Part 4 (1/2)

He unfastened his safety belt. 'Well, we are at least on the floor,' he said philosophically.

'So what ?' asked Ginger.

'We sit here until the fog lifts,' returned Biggles. 'We can't do anything else. I only hope Algy got home before all this muck came down.'

CHAPTER VII.

COMBAT I.

FOR some time Biggles sat on the back of his c.o.c.k-pit, deep in thought. Actually, he was doing mental arithmetic, going over in his mind the course he had flown, trying to work out roughly how near-or how far-they were from the base. After a while he gave it up, realizing that even if they knew the direction of the islet it would be a most hazardous business trying to get into the cove ; the chances were that they would run on the rocks at the foot of the cliff-or be carried on to them by the swell ; and even if they managed to secure a handhold, the idea of trying to climb the cliff was not to be considered. It looked impossible in daylight, let alone on a foggy night. The thing that worried him most was that he did not know how fast or in what direction they were drifting. That they were drifting he had no doubt whatever, for there are few places on any ocean entirely free from currents. A four-knot current to the south might, when the fog lifted, leave them in full view of enemy coastguards, with consequences that could hardly fail to be tragic.

His reverie was interrupted by Ginger, who had climbed out and was standing on one of the floats. 'What the d.i.c.kens is this thing in the water ?' he said.

Biggles had been vaguely aware that the machine had jarred slightly against some floating object, but thinking that it was only a piece of driftwood he had paid no attention to it. He joined Ginger on the float, and, without speaking, stood staring at a round object that was just awash.

'That 's the third one of those things we've pa.s.sed,' said Ginger in a puzzled voice.

'What do you mean-we've pa.s.sed ?' asked Biggles sharply.

'What I say.'

'But the thing, whatever it is, must drift at the same rate as ourselves, so how could we pa.s.s it ? It must be the same one He broke off, and groping under his leather flying coat, took a box of matches from his jacket pocket. A match flared up, casting a small circle of yellow, misty light. 'Good heavens!' he cried aghast as he peered forward at the object. 'It 's a mine. We've either come down in a minefield or we've drifted into one.'

The mystery was now explained. They were drifting, but the mines were stationary because they were anch.o.r.ed.

Ginger dropped on his knees and fended the mine away from the float, actually holding it by one of the horns, contact with which might have caused it to explode. 'For the love of Mike let 's get clear of the infernal thing,' he muttered desperately.

Biggles said nothing, but he knelt beside Ginger on the float and helped him to push the machine clear.

'What can we do about it ?' questioned Ginger.

'Nothing. This knocks any idea of taxi-ing on the head. We've only got to b.u.mp into one of these things-once. We can't move till daylight, that's certain.' Biggles lit a cigarette and smoked it reflectively.

The night wore on. Several times they saw mines and frequently had to fend the machine clear ; but at last came a long interval when they saw none, and Biggles expressed a hope that they were clear of the minefield.

'What 's the time ?' asked Ginger.

Biggles climbed to the c.o.c.kpit and looked at the watch on the instrument board. 'Three o'clock.' 'And it won't start to get light until half-past six.' 'About that,' agreed Biggles.

'How far do you reckon we're away from the base ?' was Ginger's next question.

'I've no idea,' admitted Biggles. 'We've no in-dication of how fast we're drifting. I think we must be some way away from the island though, because of these mines. I can't think of any reason why there should be a minefield near the islet. That doesn't mean that the Boche hasn't got a reason, though.'

After that they fell silent again. What seemed to be an eternity of time pa.s.sed; they could do nothing but sit still and watch for mines, although as a considerable period had pa.s.sed since they had seen one, it looked as if Biggles's surmise that they were clear was correct.

It was, Ginger judged, about six o'clock when he heard a faint sound in the distance. He noticed that Biggles had evidently heard it too, for he stood up, listening, staring in the direction from which it had come. 'What did that sound like to you ?' he asked.

'It sounded like a whistle,' answered Ginger. suppose it isn't possible that we've drifted near the island, and that's No. Smyth wouldn't whistle if he was looking for us. He'd hail. Hark!'

can hear an engine,' a.s.serted Ginger.

'So can I. It 's coming towards us, too.' 'Is it the motor-boat ?'

No-the beat is too heavy. Great heavens! Look out, it's nearly on us.'

It seemed as if at that moment the fog lifted slightly, for suddenly the m.u.f.fled beat of powerful engines became clear and strong. Biggles flung himself into the c.o.c.kpit, and then hesitated. He knew that if they remained where they were they were likely to be run down; on the other hand, if he started the engine the noise would drown all other sounds, and they were likely to collide with the very thing they sought to avoid. A swift glance over his shoulder showed him that Ginger was in his seat. Simultaneously the deep-throated boom of a s.h.i.+p's siren shattered the silence.

Biggles waited for no more. He started the engine, and began taxi-ing away from the point from which the sound had seemed to come. Hardly had the aircraft got under way when a towering black shape loomed over it. Biggles jerked the throttle wide open and the machine plunged for-ward. Even so, he thought it was too late, for they were right under the bows of the vessel. He flinched as it bore down on them, and the next instant what appeared to be a monster as large as a cathedral was gliding past them, leaving the plane careering wildly on the displaced water. Above the noise of his engine Biggles heard a bell clanging, and a hail, but he did not stop, for he knew that any s.h.i.+p in those waters was almost certain to be an enemy. A searchlight blazed suddenly, a spectral beam through which the fog swirled like smoke.

By this time the Willie-Willie was tearing over the water as fast as Biggles dare take it, for the wake of the huge vessel, which he realized from the searchlight must be a wars.h.i.+p, was catching them broadside on, threatening to capsize the com-paratively frail aircraft. He could see nothing ; even the s.h.i.+p had once more been swallowed up by the fog, and the searchlight with it. For perhaps five minutes he went on ; then, satisfied that they were clear, he throttled back, leaving the propeller ticking over. Slowly the machine came to rest and he stood up in his seat.

Jumping halibut,' he muttered irritably, 'this is getting a bit too much of a good thing.'

'What was it, anyway ?' asked Ginger in a strained voice.

'A Boche cruiser I think,' replied Biggles. 'It was going dead slow on account of the fog, or it would have cut us in halves. The look-out saw us, too, but I doubt if they could make out our identi-fication marks, so they would naturally a.s.sume that we were one of their own machines, forced down by the fog.'

'In that case they'll probably stop and look for us.'

'They may stop, but I don't think they'll do much looking in this murk. They're more likely to try to give us their position, supposing that we are only too anxious to be picked up. There they go,' he added, as the bellow of a siren boomed across the water.

For half an hour the cruiser remained in the vicinity, sending out frequent blasts ; but at the end of that time the eerie sound grew fainter and fainter, and finally ceased altogether-much to Biggles's relief, for the fog was beginning to turn grey with the coming of daylight.

Nevertheless, some time was yet to pa.s.s before visibility began to improve. Not for nearly an hour did the luminous white disk of the sun appear, low down on the eastern horizon, to prove that the fog was lifting. Slowly the area of dark-green water round the Willie-Willie widened, until it was pos-sible to see a mile in every direction. Knowing that it was now only a matter of minutes before the mist would disperse altogether, Biggles took off and began climbing for height. As he expected, it was possible to see through the fast-thinning vapour, and presently he made out the black ma.s.s of Bergen Ait, far to the north-west. He headed towards it and glided down in the cove just as Algy was preparing to take off in search of them.

thought you were goners,' he said.

'You'd have thought so if you'd been with us, and that 's a fact,' returned Biggles, who was staring at the water in the cove, where a number of sea-birds were flapping, as if they found it difficult to get off. Streaks of bright colour showed every-where. 'Where did all this oil come from ?' he asked.

'From the submarine, I imagine,' answered Algy. 'There 's oil all over the place.'

Ah-of course ; I forgot.'

'It wasn't only oil that drifted here from the sub-marine,' went on Algy. 'One of our bombs must have fairly split it in halves, and I fancy the skipper must have been in the act of sending a signal-at least, a whole lot of papers have drifted here. Take a look at this.' He pointed to a book bound in blue oilskin that lay on a rock, with stones between tht. pages so that the air could dry them.

Biggles took one look at it. 'Sweet spirit of Icarus!' he gasped, slowly turning the pages. '

It 's the German secret code. We shall have to let the Admiralty know about this. What a stroke of luck. Hark!'

For a few seconds they all stood motionless in a listening att.i.tude. Then Biggles took a pace for-ward, staring up at the sky, now a pale egg-sh.e.l.l blue. One tiny black speck broke its pristine surface, a speck that grew rapidly in size. n.o.body spoke, for they all recognized it. It was a German Domier flying-boat.

'Get under cover everybody,' ordered Biggles.

He turned and darted along the catwalk towards the signals room, but in a few minutes he was back at the mouth of the cave where the others were still watching the movements of the enemy aircraft through a hole in the tarpaulin. 'It 's looking for the submarine we sank yesterday morning,' he said. 'It has sent out several signals ; Roy picked them up and I've just decoded them. Incidentally, you were right about the sub. ; it was signalling when our bombs. .h.i.t it.'